Learning to Understand Dwarves
by thearrowsoflegolas
Summary: A prequel to my story 'I Like My Lembas Soft in the Morning'. Whilst walking through the woods, you unexpectedly bump into a stranger whom you had not seen for a very long time... This stranger invites you on a journey, one that you are unable to decline. Rated for language and innuendo (because let's face it, Kili and Fili are going to tease you relentlessly)
1. A Ruined Dinner

Okey dokey it's finally here! (For those who have not read my other work, 'I Like My Lembas Soft in the Morning', this story is a prequel to those events).

This story begins with your meeting with Gandalf, which soon leads to a meeting with Thorin.

Please enjoy, and feel free to check out my other stories, which are mostly written in Reader/X form :)

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><p>You breathed out through your mouth. Slowly. Deliberately. Trying to make as little noise as possible. The single female deer, only a few feet ahead of you, whipped its eyes back and forth, ears turning, attempting to catch any sound, but it soon calmed and went back to chewing on the tough grass beneath it's feet.<p>

You had been tracking this deer through the forests for what seemed like days, but was more likely only a few hours. It's left flank was injured, probably from a wolf-bite of some sort, and it had been left by the rest of the pack. Easy pickings, but that didn't mean that you were able to be sloppy.

Silently, your right arm reached around to your belt, and pulled out a newly sharpened dagger. Feeling the heavy weight in your hand reassured you, and your shoulders relaxed as you readied your arm to throw, aiming at the deer's slender, exposed neck.

You flung your arm forwards, the dagger leaving your hand, but at that point, a loud crash through the underbrush startled the animal, and it bolted, leaving your dagger quivering, impaled in a tree trunk, the deer long gone.

Swearing quietly to yourself, you stood up, dusting the layer of mud off your faded green leggings. It had been days since you had eaten, and _months_ since you had the pleasure of dining on meat. The deer would have made a welcome change from tree-bark and katniss roots, but it appeared that you would be dining on plants again tonight.

Plucking the dagger from the tree and tucking it back into your belt, you turned to the side, scanning the forest for whatever had made the offending noise and disturbed the deer. You expected to find a small stoat or a rat, scurrying around scavenging for fallen berries. What you didn't expect to see was a tall, aged man, with a long, grey beard, dressed head to toe in a ragged cloak, with a tall pointed hat resting crookedly on his pointed head. In his left hand, he grasped what appeared to be a walking stick.

At the sight, you immediately shrank back, pulling out your dagger once more, ready to fight if necessary, but you slowed your hand when you looked closer at the old man's face. It was wearied, and the skin was crumpled like waterlogged sheets of paper, but a youthful brightness gleamed behind his bright blue eyes.

Eyes which you would recognise anywhere.

"Gandalf?" you asked, taking a hesitant step forwards and glancing warily at the older man's staff. Now that you had identified him, you realised that the innocent-looking object could do far much more damage than appeared.

The man's weathered face broke out into a grin, flashing a set of pearly teeth, and he strode towards you, arms out.

You grinned as well and embraced the man with all your strength. It had been years since you had seen him last, when he had managed to rescue your ass from a particularly unfriendly band of orcs. You inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of dirt and longbottom leaf, a scent which you remembered with fondness.

Gandalf chuckled. A rumbling sound that vibrated through your whole body, before letting you go and holding you at arm's length.

"You've grown since I last saw you, little one." he stated, his blue eyes searching your face, "And you have seen much. Too much..."

You averted your gaze and stepped away. You trusted the man, that much was certain, but some secrets should stay secret.

"Why are you here?" you asked him, looking up again into his eyes, "I thought you were going West-"

"Yes, I was, wasn't I?" he agreed, playing with a strand of his long beard, "But I'm afraid, dear, (Your Name), that I am not quite finished with you yet. I've been searching these woods for weeks trying to find you. There's something I need you for."

Your heart raced at his words. Wherever Gandalf went, danger was sure to follow, and you had seen your fair share of danger already. You weren't sure if you were up to the task he would ask you to do.

But then you remembered. Surrounded by orcs, their hot breath burning at your skin, cruel laughter and the metallic screech of knives being drawn, then a flash of white light and a cloaked figure, swinging his sword this way and that, killing every orc in sight. You owed Gandalf your life. The least you could do was a favour...

"Alright," you said finally, "What is it that you want me to do?"

"Well It's not really what _I _want..." he explained, "It's more a favour for a friend..."

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Knowing Gandalf's friends, the old wizard would have you foraging in the dirt for rare worms or climbing one of the Misty Mountains to collect a very specific type of moss.

"Which friend?" you asked him, desperate to get to the bottom of the mystery. Gandalf was a brilliant friend, but he constantly spoke in riddles. Sometimes, you were certain that the old man was speaking in tongues, he made that little sense...

"Actually, I'm off to meet him now in a nearby tavern," explained Gandalf, for once giving you a straight answer.

Your eyes lit up at the word, and he laughed his rumbling laugh once more.

"Yes, alright, alright," he chuckled, "I'll buy you some food..."

And so you set off together, his tall stance dwarfing your shorter one, as you prepared to make acquaintances with this 'friend' of his.

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><p>Okey dokey the first Chapter's up :) For all you guys coming here from the Lembas fic, Im sorry it's taken so long to post. For those of you new to my stories, I hope you enjoyed and please review and follow :) xx<p> 


	2. Soggy Feet and Distinctly Hungry Humans

Okey dokey, firstly thank you to everyone who has reviewed;

Brackenfern: ME TOO DUDE (although I'm not sure if I'll be able to deal with *you know who* dying...)

kittykawaii: Thank you! :) I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, but hopefully this chapter is worth it!

Minionloverforever: Thank you for your lovely review (And I totally get the Armitage-love. That man will be the death of me one day)

Alesia: As always, your review made me smile, thanks a lot xx

(Also, see if you can spot the Frozen reference in this chapter)

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><p>You walked with Gandalf in silence for a time, his long cloak swishing and making quiet noises in the otherwise sparse forest. Your shorter legs had some difficulty in keeping up with the tall wizard, and you soon found yourself out-of-breath, and almost running in order to remain next to him. It was around midday, and the bright sun shone through the canopy of trees above you, patterning the ground with leafy silhouettes and warming your bare shoulders.<p>

Eventually, the quiet became too much for you, and you turned your head to your old friend, having to crick your neck to look him in the eye.

"So what's all this about anyway?" you asked, expecting him to give you an obscure and cryptic answer.

Of course, you were absolutely right.

"All things will be revealed in due time, young one. Do not be impatient, for the answers will be revealed to you shortly."

You sighed audibly and rolled your eyes. It was very hard to get a straight answer out of the wizard and despite the fact that he was one of your closest friends, you couldn't help but feel annoyed with him. He had a habit of skimming over the tops of answers like pebbles skimming a surface of water, occasionally hinting, but never fully giving anything away.

You heard him chuckle at your aggravated sigh, and you couldn't help but smile yourself. You had missed these conversations.

"I suppose you know of the stories of Erebor, (your name)?" asked Gandalf innocently.

"Of course I do!" you replied indignantly, "Every child was told the tales growing up. What has this to do with anything?"

He merely smiled again, and continued walking.

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><p>You carried on through the forests for a few hours, occasionally breaking the comfortable silence to talk about the weather, or how each of you had fared for the past few months, but eventually, Gandalf stopped and looked down at you, his blue eyes serious.<p>

Surprised at the sudden movement, you looked around you, and noticed that you were nearing the gates of Bree, a small village, East of the Shire and South of Fornorst Erain.

"You're taking me to BREE?" you asked incredulously at Gandalf, shocked by the normalcy of the situation.

You had assumed that the old man would have taken you somewhere exotic, like the halls of Rivendell, or the dark, uninhabited Mines of Moria to meet his friend, but he had instead led you to a place you had been many times before.

"Yes." he replied, his face grave, "I am meeting my acquaintance at the Prancing Pony."

Well, at least you were certain of getting a good meal there...

"And have you finally decided to reveal the identity of this 'Acquaintance'?" you asked with one eyebrow raised.

Gandalf nodded thoughtfully.

"I think it would be a good idea," he stated, as he walked towards the large, wooden gates.

You followed quickly, your leather boots squelching into the wet mud at your feet. At that point, large droplets of rain begun to fall from the sky, running down the rooves of the houses and into the gutters, and soaking you and your tunic, as well as Gandalf and his thick cloak. Precipitation formed glistening pearls of moisture, lodged in the older man's thick, bushy beard.

You reached the gates, and three hard raps on them called over the gate-keeper, who opened a small wooden flap, about eye-level, to peer at you with beady eyes through.

"Names and business?" he inquired in a thickly accented voice.

You looked up at Gandalf and he smiled at you.

"My name is John Greenwood, and this is my daughter, Evelyn. We are travelling to stay with family."

Your eyebrows raised a bit at the lie, but you kept yourself in check as the man behind the door scrutinised your appearance, and, seemingly contented, unbolted the thick wooden gate and swung it back, allowing you to pass through. Gandalf placed a small coin in the man's hand and thanked him, and you walked off together in search of the Prancing Pony Inn.

As you walked, Gandalf told you the story of his friend in short, to the point sentences.

"Thorin is the son of Thrain, the son of Thror, king under the mountain of Erebor."

"KING?!" you almost yelled in surprise, and Gandalf put his hand to your mouth immediately, blocking any other sounds, and looked around him warily.

The streets were bare. The only movement came from the pattering of water on the already sodden ground, and the occasional scurry of a large rat.

The only ones crazy enough to be out here in this storm were you.

A single old man grumbled as he attempted in vain to sweep the mud off his doorstep.

Well, you and that fine fellow.

"Yes," replied Gandalf, satisfied that nobody could hear your conversation, "Well, I have heard rumours that the great dragon has not been heard of in years. Dwarves from all around Middle Earth are building up confidence to go and claim the mountain as their own. Dwarves are, in essence, greedy creatures, and will stop at nothing to get their hands on some gold."

"And you're deciding to help one?" you asked him.

"Thorin is the direct descendant of the King of Erebor. The only one with a right to enter that mountain is he. I wish to see him restored to his former glory."

You nodded at the explanation, and continued walking. A loud grumble came from your belly, and your face flushed with embarrassment.

"Not far now," chuckled Gandalf, as he inclined his head to a large tavern, golden light spewing from the inside. A creaky sign labelled 'The Prancing Pony' swung in the violent wind outside the doorstep.

Excellent.

You both walked in together, and as soon as you entered, your mouth started watering. The scent of freshly-baked bread spewed from every corner, and the homely warmth and friendly chatter brought an involuntary smile to your face.

Gandalf clapped you on the shoulder, and gentlt pushed you towards a table in a corner, on which sat a man of about fourty, his long, dark hair highlighted with grey strands and his thick beard casting a shadow on his face and giving him a gaunt, tired look. Despite this, he was clothed in robes that screamed of wealth. Thick furs covered his shoulders, and on two of his fingers, he wore large silver rings. You knew instantly that this was Thorin.

"A dwarf..." you whispered. You had heard tales about the dwarves, of course, but had never believed that you would see one in the flesh.

Gandalf smiled a little at your reaction, and led you onwards, towards his table.

The man looked up with eyes full of thunder. Eyes which contained an anger that you had never before seen in a man as young as he, and you shivered.

Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all...

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><p>IM SORRY THIS ENDED ON A CLIFFHANGER PLEASE DON'T HATE ME. It's just that I ususally write my chapters about 1000 words long, and this was getting to 1400, and I still hadn't got onto the meeting yet...<p>

In the next chapter, you will meet Thorin, and be introduced to him.

As always, thaks ever so much for reading, and please feel free to review and follow xx


	3. A Chance Encounter

Hi, I'm back! :) Fiirstly, thanks for the reviews guys:

kittykawaii: Thanks :) Here I am again, and you _finally _get to meet Thorin...

Minionloverforever: Dude your English is amazing. Thanks for the review and TOM *faints*.

OK on we go...

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><p>"Mind if we join you?" asked Gandalf, his booming voice straining to be heard over the laughter and shouts from the men in the pub.<p>

The dwarf looked up with hooded eyes, and scrutinised Gandalf, before turning his eyes to you. He looked you up and down slowly, menacingly, as if he were sizing you up. The small smirk you noticed at the corner of his mouth told you that he didn't see you as a threat. In his eyes, you were nothing more than a 'mere woman'. Perhaps good for some entertainment, but as shallow-minded as a child.

You instantly disliked him.

He nodded silently, and Gandalf sat in the chair opposite him, sighing as the weight lifted from his legs. It had been a long walk.

The old wizard looked over to you, and gestured with his head towards an empty chair sat at a table opposite, and you nodded and dragged it over next to him, sitting down quietly.

A frazzled barmaid ran past, her hair escaping from the tight bun that she had constrained it in, and her face flushed. A light sheen of sweat covered her rosy forehead and her heaving, ample bosom. She was pretty, you noted, though her dress was plain and frayed.

Gandalf held out his hand to signal her, and she rushed over, breathing heavily.

"We'll have the same, please," he said kindly, gesturing to the lump of bread, slice of cheese and tankard of ale that sat before Thorin.

Not exactly a three-course meal, but you could roll with it.

She nodded, looking at you. You smiled warmly at her, before she sped off again in the direction of the bar.

The old wizard shifted forwards in his seat, resting his arms against the tabletop.

"I should introduce myself, my name is Gandalf," he said with a smile, "Gandalf the Grey. This is my companion, (Your Name)."

Hold up a second.

You glanced over at Thorin, then lifted your head to whisper angrily in Gandalf's ear.

"I thought you said you knew him." you hissed, but the older man held up his hand to silence you.

"All in due time."

You rolled your eyes once again at the cryptic response, and sat back in your seat, arms folded.

"I know who you are," replied Thorin in a gruff voice to Gandalf, ignoring you completely.

What, so you were a woman, and therefore not worth his time, was that it? Your hatred for the burly dwarf grew more with every second you were here.

"Well!" laughed Gandalf, noticing the souring in your mood and attempting to continue the conversation, "This is a fine chance!"

"What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Bree?"

Thorin's face darkened, and you instinctively reached down to your belt to wrap your hand around your small dagger, but the dwarf was not looking to fight.

A shame, really. You would have loved to cut off his-

"I received word that my father was seen wandering the wilds near Dunland." the dwarf admitted, and the jovial look in Gandalf's eyes disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

"I went looking," he continued, "Found no sign of him-"

"Thorin," interrupted Gandalf, his face grave, "It has been a long time since anything but rumour was heard of Thrain-"

"-He still lives," insisted Thorin, "I am sure of it."

Thrain. Son of Thror.

You had grown up with the stories, as had every other child in Middle Earth. The mighty dwarf, so the legends said, went mad with grief at the loss of his father, and ran away from home, never to be seen again. Thorin was his son, and of course would want to believe the rumours were true, but you couldn't help believeing what Gandalf had said. It was incredibly unlikely that a lone dwarf could survive so long in the wilds with no companions. Dwarves were sociable creatures, and worked much better in groups than as solitary travellers. You didn't hold out much hope for the life of Thrain, son of Thror.

Be that as it may, you did not want to discourage Thorin. If he believed his father was still alive, you were not willing to insist to him that he was chasing a fantasy. The dwarf may not be particularly polite, but that sisn't mean that you wanted to crush his dreams completely.

At this point, the waitress conveniently returned, and placed tow large mug sof ale, as well as two solid wooden plates of bread and cheese on the table in front of you.

Finally.

"I'm gonna pay you back for this," you promised Gandalf, before taking a long draught from the tankard and sighing in contentment.

He laughed, a booming laugh that shook the air around you, "I'll believe that when I see it, (Your Name)," he chuckled, and you couldn't help but smile.

You didn't have a very good track-record for paying people back.

"(Your Name)," muttered Thorin, and you looked over at him questioningly.

"That is an unusual name," he admitted, "Once which I have not heard before."

You raised one eyebrow, "Is that so? I must say, I have never before heard the name 'Thorin'. Only, of course, in myths and legends. Myths which I have disovered today to be true."

"You are referring, I assume, to the dwarves of Erebor?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

"You assume correctly," you responded.

Thorin nodded once more, then turned his attention away from you and towards Gandalf, as if your interaction had not happened.

Charming. You were getting really tired of this guy-

"My father came to see you before he went missing," he said intently, his thunderous eyes boring into Gandalf's, "What did you say to him?"

You took a large bite of bread, washing it down with another gulp of ale and listened in to the conversation.

"I urged him to march upon Erebor," replied Gandalf, surprising you by giving a straight answer for once, "To gather the seven armies of the dwarves. To destroy the dragon and take back the lonely mountain. And now I urge you, Thorin Oakenshield, to do the same."

Thorin's face became slack-jawed at this admission. It was madness. Utter madness, in his eyes.

"You did not just 'happen to stumble by me', did you, Gandalf," he asked gravely, already knowing the answer.

"No," replied the wizard, taking another gulp from his large tankard of ale.

"The dragon has sat there long enough." he continued, "Sooner or later, darker minds will turn towards Erebor."

"I ran into some 'unsavoury characters' on my journeys, and they mistook me for a vagabond."

A small smirk played on Thorin's lips, "I would imagine that they regretted that..." he muttered.

"One of them," continued Gandalf, "Was carrying this..."

He unravelled a thin piece of parchment from his cloak and pushed it over the table. You craned your neck to see it, and noticed that it was covered in writing. It was a language which you did not understand. Thorin appeared to be having the same difficulty. He looked up at Gandalf, asking what the parchment said.

"It is a promise of payement," explained Gandalf.

"For what?"

"Your head."

The reaction was instant. Thorin looked up, fear in his eyes.

"Someone wants you dead," the old wizard said simply, "Thorin, you can wait no longer. You are the rightful heir to that mountain. Unite the armies of the dwarves, and together, you can retake Erebor. Retake your homeland."

"The seven armies swore to follow the one who carries the King's jewel. The Arkenstone."

You sat up in interest at this, after having been quiet through the whole conversation.

"The Arkenstone?" you asked.

Thorin looked around at you again, apparently surprised to see that you were still there.

"Yes." he replied curtly, "And in cast the two of you didn't know, it was stolen by Smaug."

Smaug. The dragon. Was it possible that every fairy story you had ever been told was true?

"Well that's why we are here," admitted Gandalf, "To help you to reclaim it."

Thorin snorted in derision, and took another swig from his tankard of ale.

"So an old wizard and a little girl are going to steal it from under the feet of a fire-breathing dragon? I find that hard to believe-"

You snarled, and brought down your dagger on the thick, wooden table, where it stood, quivering. A 'little girl'?

"I will give you one chance to retract that statement, Oakenshield," you snarled.

Thorin literally jumped, started by your reaction.

"I assure you," you continued, "I'm just as capable as any man you will ever fight."

Gandalf placed his hand firmly on your shoulder, and gave you a distinct, 'not now' look. He knew your hatred of being underestimated, but clearly did not wish for a fight with the dwarf before your worst had even begun.

With a grunt, you removed your dagger from the table and placed it back in your belt, staring furiously at Thorin.

"Master Oakenshield," began Gandalf, "I have had the pleasure of knowing (Your Name) for many a year. Take my word. She is lethal with those daggers of hers. You would not wish to offend her."

You nodded a quick 'thank you' to Gandalf, and he continued.

"As for the Arkenstone, we will be in need of a burglar."

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><p>Ok yeah not much of you in this chapter, I was just making sure the base was set up before jumping in with the story. Please review and all that jazz. You'll meet the dwarves in the next chapter soooo :)<p> 


	4. A Much-Needed Feast

Oooh golly it has been far far too long since I have posted a chapter you have my sincerest apologies.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing/following xx

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><p>"Bloody wizard," you mumbled to yourself as you pulled your fur hood tighter around your head, thick, fat raindrops smashing into your face and soaking your already damp hair. You stomped on, angrily, your rough leather boots splashing up tsunami tides of muddy rainwater with each heavy step.<p>

The waning light was already fading fast, and you were only just reaching the outskirts of Hobbiton. Typical. You were going to be late, as usual.

Gandalf has given you strict instructions to meet at the house of a Mr. Bilbo Baggins at sundown on this very day, but you had got caught up in the forest, and were running a bit late.

Well, you say you got 'caught up'. Really, you had wasted about two hours tracking a large deer through the underbrush. Even with the promise of a hobbit-feast on the horizon, you weren't ready to let a possible meal go to waste.

The deer, of course, had not been caught, and eventually, you had given up and decided to get going. If there was one thing that you loved about hobbits, it was their constant never ending supply of food.

A loud boom came from overhead, and you stretched your neck to look above you. A sharp, fast lightning bolt lit up the clouds above your head, brightening the gloomy sky for a short moment, before it faded back into blackness.

"A thunderstorm..." you grumbled, "Perfect..."

Putting one foot in front of another, you continued to walk on, nearing the warm, cozy-looking hobbit holes. Yellow light shone out from their round windows, and the sound of joyous music came from one or two houses around you.

"Baggins...Baggins..." you muttered, looking around for the 'symbol' that Gandalf had assured you he had carved into the door.

The wizard's instructions had not been very clear. You were to find the home of Bilbo Baggins. It was _somewhere_ in The Shire. Rubbing your hands together in an attempt to regain circulation, you decided to stop off and ask a local if they knew of Mr Baggins, or at least, where he resided.

Grumbling to yourself, interaction with people wasn't your strong point, you walked up the pathway of one of the houses, took a deep breath, and rapped on the door.

"Who can be calling at this ungodly hour?" came an angry mutter from inside, as a pair of keys jangled and the brightly painted blue door swung open to reveal a small, portly hobbit-lady, with brown ringlets in her hair, and a floral-patterned dress.

Her eyes widened as she took you in, and you assumed that you were quite a sight. Decked head-to-toe in black, apart from your soft brown leather boots, and the fox fur lining your hood, raindrops falling like a waterfall from your nose and chin, you weren't surprised that the little lady clutched her hand to her heart in fear and whispered, "Oh deary me..."

"Hello," you introduced yourself politely, holding out your shivering hand to the hobbit, trying to make a good first impression.

The smaller woman shook it apprehensively, the heat from her much warmer hand leaching into yours for a second, before she took it away.

"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, Ma'am," you continued, lowering her hood to allow her to see your face, "But I'm just enquiring on the whereabouts of a friend of mine. Bilbo Baggins. Have you heard of him? I'm supposed to be meeting him tonight, but I must admit, I have no idea which of these houses he lives in..."

"Ah, Bilbo." Sighed the older woman, appearing to regain her confidence when she realised that you meant her no harm, "He doesn't live too far from here, love. Keep walking down this road," she leaned out of the door slightly, gesturing with her hand, "And turn left at that big oak tree."

"Thank you," you replied, nodding.

"Take care now."

She closed the door, and you shivered, pulling your cloak tighter around you, and set off in the direction that you had been pointed.

You walked for a while longer, and turned left at the place that you had been told to. Soon, you began to see a strange blue light punctuating the otherwise monochromatic darkness.

Confused, you continued walking, squinting your eyes as you turned, and saw that one of the doors of the many hobbit-holes had a pattern scratched into it, almost like a rune. The indentation was glowing with an air of magic, and you knew at once that this was the 'sign' that Gandalf had told you of.

Taking long, purposeful strides up to the door, you rapped loudly three times.

The door was opened by a flustered little man, his face bright red with exertion, and his light brown hair tousled.

"Master Baggins?" you inquired.

"Oh! Not another one!" He squeaked, and you smirked, assuming that you weren't the first.

You stepped back and began to take a deep bow, but were stopped almost immediately by the small creature.

"If one more dwarf says 'At your service' to me today, I'm kicking you all out of my house!"

You straightened up, laughing.

"I am not a dwarf, Master Baggins," you responded, taking a step into his house, and having to bend down in order to avoid banging your head on the top of the door, "I assure you, I'm very much human. Just, perhaps, not as tall as I would like to be."

"Oh I am dreadfully sorry!" replied the hobbit, taking your sodden cloak from off your shoulders and hanging it on a heavily laden coat stand, "I've just had so many dwarves in my house today..."

"Don't worry about it!" you reassured him, it had certainly not been the first time you had been mistaken for a dwarf, "Are they in there?"

You gestured to the dining room, from which the unmistakeable sounds of laughter and obnoxiously loud burping came.

Bilbo nodded, and you smiled.

"Thank you."

You shook his hand, dwarfing it in your larger one. You had knife-throwing hands, calloused and scarred, with long, slender fingers, whereas the young hobbit's hands were soft small, a clear sign of an easy life.

"My name is (Your name), by the way," you added, and the hobbit looked up at you.

"Bilbo," he responded.

You nodded and let go of his hand, walking purposefully into the dining room.

The dwarves were all sat at the large table, throwing thick slices of bread at one another, and spilling ale and stew all over the place, a large roll of cheese, half-eaten, lay at the centre of the table, and each dwarf was laughing jovially.

"I... um... hello..." you tried to shout over the racket, but to no avail.

"Hello!" you tried a bit louder, "My name is (your name)... um... I'm here to help you on your..."

"QUIET!" came a booming shout from beside you, and the noise on the room subsided as Gandalf walked in, towering above you.

The room went silent, an all eves immediately turned towards you expectantly.

"Um..." you began again, "My name is (your name). I'm here to assist you in this quest, by request of Gandalf."

Your eye caught the two younger-looking dwarves at the end of the table, a blond and a brunet, who were talking quietly behind their hands, smirking occasionally.

Annoyed at their obvious dismissal of you, you grew in confidence.

"You all know my name, but I don't know any of yours," you said simply, "Would you mind?"

"Not at all, lassie," said a stout, ginger-haired dwarf, with a distinct Scottish accent, "I'm Gloin, and this is my brother, Oin." he motioned to the greying dwarf sat next to him.

One by one, they went through their names.

Dwalin and his brother, Balin, who both looked so different, it was hard to tell that they were related. Dwalin was a great beast of a dwarf, with a balding head, and biceps the size of your thighs, whereas Balin was a lot shorter, his unusual white beard parted down the middle.

Bifur, Bofur and Bombur were the next to be introduced to you. The latter was so large, he took up two whole chairs.

Ori, a small, timid-looking dwarf introduced his brothers, Nori and Dori.

"And I'm Kili," said the younger one. His chiselled chin showed signs of a small amount of stubble growing, and you couldn't help but smile. Despite his obvious immaturity, his bravado and confidence managed to make him seem completely at ease amongst the older and wiser dwarves.

"And this is my brother, Fili,"

The blond dwarf gave you a silent nod, his moustache-braids moving in time with his head.

"A pleasure to meet you," you exclaimed, before perching down on a chair next to Gloin, grabbing a large hunk of bread from the table and taking a horse-sized bite.

"Mashter Bagginsh," you yelled, your mouth full, "Exshellent bwread!"

Gloin chuckled next to you in surprise, and you smiled at him. You could only keep up the ice-queen façade for so long. Especially when there was food in front of you.

"Well thank you very much," shouted Bilbo, from somewhere upstairs, "I made it fresh this morning."

The chatter as interrupted by three loud, booming knocks on the door. You sighed inwardly. You knew who this was.

"And it seems that we have our final guest," mumbled Gandalf, getting up from the table and walking to the door.

Brilliant.

Thorin Oakenshield had arrived.

* * *

><p>I know. I'm a cliffhanger bitch. I'm sorry. As always, please review xx<p> 


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